


They Had It Comin'

by BuboMuzziusFTW



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Various other newsies are mentioned... But dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuboMuzziusFTW/pseuds/BuboMuzziusFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newsies Cell Block Tango: Denton needs a story, and what could possibly be more interesting than a bunch of former Newsies that are now doing time for murder?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction/ Pop

**Author's Note:**

> ... I just killed off about half the cast. Why am I so okay with this?

Bryan leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank page in the typewriter and the half-empty cup of coffee on his desk beside it.  
News had been slow again, and that was the absolute worst thing that could happen to a reporter. So there he was, trapped at a desk with hundreds of notes on things to watch, as they could turn into important stories. Of course, they hardly ever developed into anything worth reporting, but he had to make a living somehow.  
His coffee had almost gone cold by the time the telephone rang. Bryan made his way over quickly enough, but was obviously not in any distinct hurry that morning.  
“Hello?” The attempt at keeping his voice sounding cheerful was unsuccessful, but a strong effort nonetheless. “Bryan Denton.”  
“Bad day?” His fellow journalist on the other end of the line laughed bitterly to himself. “Yeah… I know a boring day when I see it. If I didn’t have an assignment, I don’t know what I’d be covering…”  
Bryan rolled his eyes, but smiled a bit. “Your sympathy is always appreciated, John, but I’d just about kill for a story, and if you don’t have anything-“  
“Aha, funny you should say that.”  
“Yeah?” His eyes widened a bit as he started searching his pockets for a pen.  
“I’d imagine you remember the newsboy strike you covered a few years ago? The one no one said had any mileage?” John paused for a few seconds, until Bryan indicated for him to continue. “Yeah. Police just released that the sixth one of those boys is now behind bars.”  
Bryan’s brow furrowed as he looked towards the phone. “Six? …What are the charges?”  
“Murder. All of them.”  
—————————————————————————————————————  
The click of the pen rang much too loud in the silence.  
Bryan looked back and forth a few times between the blank page on his notepad and the boys, turning with a nod to the warden. Naturally, he wasn’t entirely sure about the decision to keep him alone in a room with six recent murderers, but that was the arrangement that was deemed best for the article. So he watched the warden turn on his heel and leave, the silence lasting until the door closed behind him.  
“… Denton?”  
It was obviously David’s voice, but Bryan almost refused to believe it. He sighed, taking another second to watch the closed door before turning back towards the boys. As much as it was just wrong to see the six of them as inmates, that’s what they were now, and he just needed to get enough information to report the story.  
But he couldn’t help but look back at what he’d known them to be during the strike. David was the worst to see, but all of them had been such good kids…  
Bryan cleared his throat, focusing back on the task at hand.  
“Yes, Bryan Denton. All I want is just to ask a few questions, so you can make yourselves… At least try to be comfortable.”  
“In here?” Skittery snorted, leaning back against one of the cinderblock walls. “I’ve never felt more at home.”  
Bryan couldn’t help noticing the awkward way the other four moved away from Skittery, leaving Spot in a similar posture a few feet down the wall as the closest to him.  
“Well, sorry, your highness,” Spot rolled his eyes. “They can’t keep all of us in our own padded cell-”  
“I’m not that crazy.”  
“Yet.”  
Then there was a pause where Skittery glared, ready to retaliate, and Spot smirked back, and it only ended when they recognized the scratch of pen on paper and turned their attention back to Bryan.  
“So… What exactly do you plan on asking?” David settled on the bench across from Bryan, taking his time in looking up to make eye contact for the first time since being reunited. “There’s only so much of value you can hear from us.”  
“Yeah, it’s not like any of us actually paid attention during the trial…”  
Mush was also one of the more surprising inmates, but Bryan just sighed, smiling a little.  
“Don’t worry, I just want as much as you’re willing to tell me. They should be working on getting me access to your case files as we speak.”  
Everyone’s attention seemed to focus a bit more sharply after that, and Bryan scanned the room. Specs had come up behind David, with Itey a few paces behind him, and Mush slid onto one of the ends of the bench. Spot and Skittery were both still at the back wall, but paying attention, and that was what really mattered at the moment.  
David smirked slightly. “Awful lot of work for just the six of us… You really think we’re an important story?”  
Bryan stopped for a moment, blinking, then swallowed hard. “You know what I’ve covered, David. Whether it’s an important story or not depends entirely on what you say and what it convinces the general public of. The easiest would be saying that the newsies they see every day in the street are a dangerous, criminal bunch who could kill them if they weren't a source of income. But if you have any differ—”  
“Are you saying we aren’t?” Spot’s eyes narrowed slightly, taking a few steps forwards.  
“No. But by now, everyone has forgotten the newsies again, and after reading this, they will likely have an opinion.” Bryan straightened up in his chair, bringing the pen back to the page. “Do you have any particular thoughts on what that opinion should be?”  
There was another quiet, tense moment as Spot tried to find a way to respond.  
Bryan sighed, setting his pen down on the pad in his lap and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “I’m sorry, fellas. I’m trying to stay professional here, but... I know you’re still the kids I wrote about for the strike and yet… not. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here but-” He cut himself off with another sigh and glanced over his notes once more, taking up his pen.  
“So… Spot. You were the first one in, correct?”  
Bryan looked up, completely calm in meeting Spot’s icy glare.  
“I was.”  
“For the murder of Anthony Higgins?”  
“He was Racetrack to the rest of us, but yeah.”  
Bryan scribbled a couple quick notes to start, then paused, waiting a couple more moments before speaking again.“…Any more detail? You know what the boys’ll want to sell.”  
“… Fine.”  
Everyone seemed to turn to Spot and watch the smirk spread across his face before he jumped over the bench, and settled down next to David, shoving him over a bit so he could be directly in front of Bryan. Spot clearly was still none too happy, but was hiding it well as he leaned forward, his elbows propped against his knees too support him, and stared evenly at the notepad as he started talking.  
“So, it started when Race started sayin’ he needed a place on my side of the bridge, and we figured it’d just be easier for both of us to split the rent, so that was that. But every roommate always has to have their little habits… And Race had a lot. ” Spot paused, laughing humorlessly, “A lot that got my nerves, too.”  
“Then what made the difference?” Skittery was still holding up the back wall when he spoke, and glaring at the back of Spot’s head. “You kept him what, two weeks?”  
“Yeah, I put up with him since I first stayed at the Lodging house, and I’m sure—”  
“Race wasn’t that ba—”  
“Shut up and maybe I’ll say!” Spot snapped, and both David and Mush jumped back slightly. Skittery just rolled his eyes as Spot turned to glare back over his shoulder, and Bryan suddenly realized he didn’t need notes on any outbursts that might happen, but just marked an ‘x’ through the bullet points and looked up. He nodded to Spot, and the room's focus was suddenly back on the story.  
Bryan did make a note of that. Of course, Spot had been the first to kill, so they’d all heard the story (if they hadn’t had to sell it), and yet they all were still interested in his account.  
“Alright, so it’d been a difficult day, to say the least. I wasn’t off my head, but I wasn’t exactly sober either, and certainly irritated and maybe lookin’ for a little sympathy. What I really didn’t need was Race’s shenanigans… And there was Race, all set up on the floor with a poker game and some of my boys, who, mind you, hadn’t shown their faces around all day and ran as soon as they saw me...”  
Spot went quiet for some time and just stared hard at the floor, methodically cracking his knuckles and scowling.  
“…Race didn’t have much to say for himself, either, but refused to take the blame. And maybe I was rushing myself, but I wouldn’t take any of it, so I grabbed the shot gun off the wall and fired two warning shots.”  
There was another long pause, where everyone was on edge, too careful to say anything, and the only noise was Bryan writing.  
“And?” Bryan finally broke the silence, and Spot’s eyes snapped up to meet the reporter’s.  
“That’s all there is. Two shots…” Spot smirked slightly, with maybe what looked like a touch of regret in his eyes. “Two shots straight through his head.”  
The room was quiet again, and even Bryan pause his fervent scribbling to watch Spot for the couple tense moments before he was on his feet.  
“What the Hell are you all starin' at me for? You’se all in here for the same thing I am.” Spot sighed, clearly frustrated and scrambling for anything to hang on to. “Hell, the rest of you have been there. We’ve all seen it, and I’ll bet you would have done the same thing!”  
Bryan wished he could get someone to sketch each of the boy’s reactions to that, so he could capture the range from Skittery half agreeing to David’s tight-lipped, forced indifference to Specs looking just about disgusted.  
“No… I can tell you right now that that’s not what I would have done.”  
Spot turned to face him just as Specs crossed his arms. “Then what did you—”  
“Arsenic."


	2. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, sorry this took so long and is so short... I'm finally getting back into writing this up, so at least I can say that more is coming.

“Arsenic.”  
Bryan sighed heavily, quickly flipping to a new page as there was a new eruption of conversation. He tried valiantly to follow Spot’s argument for the value of killing someone yourself, especially if they’d done something bad enough to drive Specs to murder, along with David and Specs each saying something else, and the way Mush just turned to Skittery with a shrug and “To each their own.” But after a moment, Bryan just gave up, hoping he’d remember some of the details he wouldn’t be able to get written down and wondering why he’d though this was a good idea in the first place.   
He looked to Specs after a minute or so, catching his attention mid- rant.  
“So… Since you’ve already started?”  
“Sure… The files’d have me down as Marek, and… Well, everyone just called him Romeo.” Specs laughed bitterly to himself, then sighed, looking up slowly. “I suppose that should have been warning enough..."   
"We met a couple of years ago, and, of course, he was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen, but he said he was single and wasn't just into chasin' skirts..." Specs paused, frowning a little. "So we started livin' together. Same sort of story, splittin' rent and all that. But, of course, I had to work, and he supposedly did too, but every day we actually get some time together, he's coming back late, rubbing lipstick off his neck."  
Bryan looked up quickly, noting the lack of anger and pure, accepting bitterness in Specs' tone, as well as the way Mush winced a little more, and David was fighting to keep his face indifferent.  
"I let him be for a while... Figured it wasn't anythin’ to be worried about, Y'know? But no." Specs sighed, closing his eyes. "I couldn't tell you how many girls there was, but he'd proposed to six once I decided to start lookin’ and..."  
"And then you just couldn't do it anymore." Spot crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.,  
Specs nodded, staring hard at the floor in front of him, regret, anger and some sort of mourning all obvious in his expression.  
When he continued, his voice was quieter, and shook slightly. "This was after I'd gotten in the habit of having something together for dinner, and I had some extra dough so..."  
Bryan nodded. "Thus, arsenic."  
“Exactly.”  
“Where’d you even get it?” Mush interjected suddenly, after a pause.  
“Why would you even want to know?”  
“Itey, he’s gonna be behind bars the rest of his life. It’s got getting’ him anywhere to ask.”  
All eyes turned back to Specs; Bryan lastly, looking up from his notes only to see Specs raising an eyebrow back at him.  
“I’d rather not, if you wouldn’t-”  
“I’ve got the sale on file…” Bryan sighed, knowing it was likely the more reporter-ly approach. “And since he faced his own charges, I’m fairly sure it’s protected anyway-”  
“Then why are we talking about our own cases in front of each other? Those are likely ‘protected’ as well, right? It wouldn’t have been too hard to get us each separately, and it would lead to easier notes…” David stared back at him expectantly, smirking slightly.  
But, as much as Bryan really would have liked to reply, he was only able to sigh before he was cut off again.  
“He’s puttin’ all our cases in the pape. Clearly, they ain’t that closely guarded.” Skittery sighed, coming forward and leaning back against Mush’s shoulders, looking over at David after a moment, expression just about dripping sarcasm. “So shut up, will ya? Shut up and just hope we get our picture above the fold again.”  
“I can’t guarantee-”  
“You’ve seven murders. That’d be the best headline I ever heard.”


End file.
